Proserpina
by ManicMelancholyMonkey
Summary: King Candy is/was Vanellope's father, but their relationship is certainly strained.
1. Prologue

Proserpina

* * *

He wrung the night cap in his hands, twisting it anxiously within his fingers as he tried to remain still and unyielding to the agony of watching his young daughter plagued by nightmarish dreams. He watched her fervently, brow creased with utmost worry and half-hidden fear of what she was experiencing. Perhaps, in some way it was selfish of him to wish her night terrors did not include him –no, that they didn't include his _skin, his snarling, sickening grin of triumph, his eyes that were practically murderous—_yet he could not help but want to banish the very idea.

It was one thing to watch his daughter squirming out of torment, but only increasing agony to know that he could not do a single thing about it. He could not wake her from her sleep, not with the possibility that she may see his face and be ever the more consumed by fright with the belief that he was… that _creature_.

Candy clutched at the collar of his nightshirt and all but tore at his bedcap, breathing heavily out of a combination of unapologetic anger and the exhaustion of his own anguish. Looking up, he saw that his daughter had calmed somewhat; his baby was no longer hyperventilating, though she was still shaking slightly. He took several deep breaths, needing to regain his calm just as much as she, before stepping forward. Boldly, the King grasped at the pink marshmallow comforter that Vanellope had nearly torn off of herself and tucked it back over his baby. There he smiled quietly and warmly, the stirring in his chest not as painful as the last while he looked on her sweet, round face.

He reached a hand to caress the top of her head, a familiar gesture or so it had been programmed, and wipe away some of the glistening sheen of sweat on her forehead but halted almost immediately. He was completely still, looking down though at nowhere in particular; catatonic.

King Candy pulled away once his hand began to shake in its place and he attempted to blame it on aging as his eyes watered incessantly.

The ex-monarch shut his eyes and shifted away from his daughter's bedside to take a seat close by. The gummy chair sagged somewhat beneath his weight, but he hardly noticed, deflating with the furniture instantly.

* * *

Context: This is a drabble based around the various ideas that King Candy was actually a real character in Sugar Rush, that he was Vanellope's father, and that he was somehow connected to Turbo (if Turbo were using his skin) and had been helpless to do anything but watch Turbo defile the game.

Wreck-It Ralph and its characters belong to Disney.


	2. Since you pushed my love aside

_There's nowhere to hide, since you pushed my love aside_

"Good morning dear!" King Candy called to his daughter with a bright smile and hands clasped neatly in front of him.

The president, unlike her father, was definitely not a morning person. She came into the dining hall with unruly hair and pajamas askew; her eyes looked duller filled with exhaustion and larger with the rings that circled them. For a moment King Candy's mood spiked with concern as he noted the darker shade of red of her nose and cheeks.

"'Morning," Vanellope replied churlishly. She gave him half a smile while she passed, and Candy felt glad that he could hide his disappointment.

She scuttled over the head of the dining table and King Candy followed suit, moving to opposite end so as to face her. Vanellope displayed no real formality, eyes only raking over the food on her plate, which was just as edible, before digging in. She continued this by munching noisily on whatever she could get her little hands on, having worked up quite an appetite somewhere between sleep and waking, much to her father's disapproval. He himself ate with a little less fortitude and was easily distracted by her lack of grace.

King Candy wondered briefly if he should rise to the occasion and worked up the courage to gesture at her obvious lack of manners, but thought better of it. He was torn between the uncomfortable situation of overstepping his bounds and not being able to 'parent' his daughter.

Thus, they ate in relative quiet, as per the usual. Vanellope's father attempted to engage her into conversation at times like always. And like always it amounted to little. He did not dare to bring up what was forthright in his mind, his knowledge of her night terrors, knowing that it would be embarrassing for the nine-year-old. To be honest he understood how mortifying that would be, and instead he focused on how nice it was just for her to there with him. Even with that niggling belief that their situation could be better, that he could connect with his child as a parent should and that Vanellope could react with warmth and eagerness, he reflected on the peace of their surrounding in contentment.

"Do you remember when the arcade opens?"

Her father blinked, "Wha-?"

"What time does the arcade open, on Monday I mean?" Vanellope questioned. She'd begun to play with her food or what was left of it while looking up at him in earnest.

"You don't… know?" His concern for her well-being escalated.

"Well gdoi, of course I know." Vanellope rolled her eyes, but there was some semblance of a smile on her face that made up for it. "I just… ya' know, can't remember is all."

"Tut, tut," Candy slipped from confused to teasing before he could help himself. "It won't do for the President to forget her schedule!"

"It's too early!" Vanellope claimed in a whine. "I bet no one else remembers anyway…"

"I don't know..." King Candy suggested. He saw an opening for his concern to be made known. "Do you feel well, dear? Maybe you're feeling lightheaded? If you are, you don't have to go out today. You know, Sour Bill can—"

"I'm just tired, that's all." The girl looked at him pointedly. She pierced with a knowing gaze, one that he was in no way prepared for, a gaze with said 'I know what you're doing and I want you to stop.'

Before he knew it, the King shrunk slightly in shame and looked for some way to change the direction of their conversation. "I… think the arcade opens at 4:00, dear."

The girl practically stood up on her chair. "That means the random roster race is supposed to be happening right now. I can't be late!"

The ex-monarch stood from his chair just as quickly, grunting in surprise. He watched indignantly as his daughter jumped from her seat to the floor without so much as pushing her chair out.

"Vanellope!"

He raised a hand imploringly, "Wait, sweetheart! You haven't finished—"

"No time!" The girl scrambled toward the stairs with sudden energy, intent on hurrying to her room with it dawned on her that she could teleport. Vanellope laughed and vanished into a flurry of pixels all the way up the stairwell, leaving her father to gape openly at her exit and half-wonder if she was going to come back.

The man soon found himself waiting, growing uppity while his daughter spent her sweet time finding something decent to wear. For a moment or two he entertained the thought of asking her if he could come along. There would be no greater joy than to see his little girl racing alongside her friends, for he knew her love for their game's purpose was strong as anybody's, perhaps even stronger. It would be dually wonderful to simply participate in a race, whatever the circumstances, without being repressed by _someone else's_ presence.

A shadow passed over the elder man's face while his thoughts deepened. There was no way to think about his previous situation without feeling angry, yet the moment he heard the familiar zap of Vanellope's return, King Candy was ripped from his thoughts and steadied himself.

"Vanellope!" He tried again once his daughter came into view. The girl was already running past him, garbed in her casual mint-colored sweatshirt that had worn its welcome long ago.

"Yeah?" The child considered him at last, seemingly still jogging in place. At a glance, King Candy could see how much healthier she looked from when she had first come down the stairs. Her cheeks were still too red but if he had a guess, Candy would bet it was the adrenaline.

The sight of her, so vibrant and happy even in clothes and with scraps of random sweets stuck to her dark head, made the would-be King's chest swell. He smiled softly, anger completely usurped.

"I-I…" He twiddled his thumbs nervously, wanting to say more. "I hope you remember to be safe. Okay?"

"Sherbet!" Vanellope nodded in affirmation, smiling with a little more genuinely now with the possibility of freedom. The girl lifted her hood and headed to the doors before glitching past it easily.

"Stay away from Nesquick Sand!" Her father felt the need to call out, although feebly, even as he watched Vanellope disappear behind the great doors. She'd rushed away far too swiftly.

The colorfully clothed man remained in the same place for several moments until he noticed how silent it had become. It became unbearable again and he immediately wished for his daughter's presence to soothe away the emptiness.

He sighed, finally, and moved toward the balcony, pausing only to push in his chair. He stepped onto the veranda with little energy, feeling extremely put out even if the day were only just starting.

King Candy grasped the railing with both hands and waited, posture stiff as he hoped against hope that for once he might catch his daughter bounding outside to play instead of glitching as far from the castle as possible.


	3. It's those people problems

It's those people problems, it's something to consider

* * *

By the time King Candy could bring himself to retreat from the balcony, the sun had changed positions in the sky above his kingdom. The addled monarch had managed to develop a massive headache from his incessant thing and came down from his perch while holding one hand to his forehead as the pain sharpened behind his eyes.

Sour Bill milled about the table that had been deserted, clearing away dishes – those that were not half eaten – and attempting, rather unsuccessfully to contain the cups, saucers, and utensils he had towered in his suspended hands. Had King Candy not been suffering a migraine he might've chuckled at his friend's failure, if in the most jubilant of ways of course.

Instead, the un-monarch found that he was spacing out for the second time that day, watching as Sour Bill shuffled here and there. His thoughts strayed to this, that and the other, from the necessity of getting a servant to clean up the palace to the adamancy in he himself cleaning up instead, from the retreat of his daughter to the clear as day remembrance of what life had been like beforehand coupled with the fact that that had been almost twenty years prior to his current state. Information and thought sped within his head, congealing until everything was a blur and Candy found that he had to steady himself against his favorite dining chair with a shallowness of breath. He hid it as well as he could, knowing that Sour Bill knew too much not to notice him in the room. He prayed to Mod that Bill couldn't figure him out from such a distance however.

"Sour Bill, do you think I should…? I mean to say, would it be appropriate if I attended one of the races? I haven't seen one in… a while."

Sour Bill replied flatly. "The decision is yours sire."

"Yes I know. But…" Candy's insides were stirring. He knew he was becoming frustrated, but the 'why' was escaping him. Was it his hesitance? His helpless demeanor? Whatever it was, he was suddenly adverse to the idea of standing around to find out.

"You don't have to do that," King Candy spoke up after a few moments, letting the hand that covered his forehead drift down to his side though the headache was frying his brain. "I can clear everything up."

He started toward Sour Bill and moved to clear was little was left on the dining table, intent on getting rid of all the negativity that festered inside his being with a little "manual labor". For some reason, the man believed that he might begin tapping his foot if he didn't do something to stave it off.

Sour Bill continued his work. "That won't necessary."

The ex-monarch halted and viewed his personal servant with unmitigated impatience. The hand at his side clenched while Sour Bill continued to stare at him blankly. "I could help."

"Don't concern yourself. This is in my job description." Sour Bill remained monotone, unaware of his employer's darkened mood.

"Oh really? Last time I checked, you were my advisor." The would-be monarch snapped. His countenance instantly changed from sympathetic to outrage, and he all but scowled in Sour Bill's direction, prompting the hard-candied servant to blink questioningly. "And as my advisor, you're supposed to help me make important decisions Sour Bill, not waste your time with things I never ordered you to do in the first place!"

King Candy huffed and puffed with the eruption. His normally cheery face was tinged with red and uncharacteristic anger which quickly receded with the loss of spasmodic energy. He looked down at the gleaming, marzipan floor with a feeling of absolute confusion.

"Are you feeling well sire?" Sour Bill inquired. He was in between hefting a few chewed plates and utensils as he stared at Candy. Neither his expression nor his vocal inflection changed, but if King Candy didn't know any better, he might've heard the orb's voice raise an octave or two.

"I… Oh, this headache is killing me." The king closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. He could hear something in the back of his head; a whirring that was both familiar and difficult to place, and yet trying to figure it out only resulted in more pain. "I'm sorry Sour Bill. I'll just… I'll just…"

Candy moved sluggishly from the hall to travel upstairs. He held fast to the stair-railing until his knuckles were white, the faint feeling of pain just barely making its way through the fog that had enveloped the elderly character. He mechanically made his way to the room that belonged to him without so much as florish in his wake.

"If I don't wake soon, please see to it that Vanellope comes home safe and sound." King Candy requested distantly, whatever feeling he could muster coming out in an empathetic moan. "And make sure she's feeling well. Poor baby – I think she may be coming down with something."

Sour Bill watched him go in silence; feeling certain that it wasn't Vanellope and her ill-health that had cause for concern as it was his superior's highs and lows.

* * *

Aah, I've actually completed another chapter. I suppose I missed taking song lyrics out of context for fun.

(P.S. I'm sorry for the wait! This chapter was actually going to be much longer but I couldn't put off finishing that particular scene, so please forgive me and be on the look out for a modified version of it in the next chapter, which I believe will come sooner than later. Thank you for the reviews and favorites by the way! Please continue to R&R, I genuinely appreciate it!)


End file.
